


have you no idea that you're in deep?

by JediAnnieScrambler



Category: UnREAL (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, but here is not that! but also kinda that, but not, pls screencap me ao3 tag of the day, you've heard of fake married! you've heard of fake dating!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 23:11:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14555601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JediAnnieScrambler/pseuds/JediAnnieScrambler
Summary: Vegas happens. So do other things. Quinn doesn't know how to tell Rachel. (See notes for spoiler warnings)





	have you no idea that you're in deep?

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for s2, but au where s3 doesn't exist. I didn't edit this and I'm sorry if I change tenses at random.

Waking to a throbbing ache behind her eyes wasn’t new. Hangover headaches were all too commonplace for Quinn. 

 

The warm weight of another person in the bed next to her wasn’t odd either, sometimes it was Rachel but usually it was Chet. This time it was Rachel, still asleep from their suitor signing party, dressed in a man’s oversized tee shirt. 

 

No, it wasn’t the hangover or the bed partner that was bothering Quinn, her true concern was the ring on her left hand. And the matching on that Rachel wore. 

 

It was Vegas after all. 

 

She took inventory of her surroundings and of her own mind. Rachel; asleep. Their clothes; basically still intact with bits and pieces strewn around the room. There was a bottle of whiskey on her bed side table, sitting on top of a stout piece of paper. 

 

Quinn slowly sat up, careful not to wake Rachel for once, and lifted the bottle to retreated the paper underneath and quickly slide it into her purse. It’s legitimacy could be checked later. 

 

She stood over the sleeping figure. Rachel looked calmer and more relaxed and happy than Quinn had seen her in months. Rachel’s makeup may have been smudged but for once the worry had been erased from her face. Rachel was beautiful, in a feral way, but in her sleeping calm she looked less like a hurricane and more like the soft morning light she was awash in. 

 

Quinn’s ring came off next. She strung it onto a chain and hung it under her clothes. She knew she couldn’t take Rachel’s without waking her, so instead she left her dragon with that mystery and went to shower. 

 

There was nothing immediate to worry about, her and Rachel were in it for the long run, Everlasting was theirs. And if there were any issues, she’d just have whatever happened undone. There wasn’t anything enough money couldn’t fix. 

 

* * *

 

“Quinn do you remember-“

 

“How you stabbed me in the back and tried to steal my show?” Quinn snapped, “Yes Rachel, that’s still fresh in my mind.”

 

Rachel twisted her hands together, fingers brushing her left hand, hiding it. 

 

“When we were in Vegas,” she began again, but stopped. 

 

“I’m not in the mood to reminisce, so why don’t you run back to your new little boyfriend and let me do my job?”

 

* * *

 

John Booth wants her to have his children and Rachel has been too busy fucking their boss to care. Not that she would have any reason to care, Quinn reasoned, but the stiff cardstock weighted heavy in her purse. It was real. It sure was real, more real than half the stuff in her life, in the world that was Everlasting. 

 

“You never take this off,” John murmured one evening, his fingers trailing for Quinn’s throat to the chain she wore, “What does it mean? Was it your father’s?”

 

“No, it was not my father’s,” Quinn’s hand curled around the ring protectively, “It’s mine. I like it.”

 

“If you want a necklace, I can get you a proper pendant. This ring looks like it’s cheap metal,” his offer was sincere and she knew he didn’t mean to be cruel, but she forced down her defensive words. 

 

“I like it,” she insisted. 

 

It didn’t matter. Two days later she was all dried up with bigger issues to deal with. 

 

* * *

“I love you. I  _ love _ you. You’re fired.”

 

She could hear her voice echo through the room. She felt nothing, not the pain of her cuts to her hands or her heart, the only thing that made any sense was Rachel’s hands on her arms. Rachel was grounding her and wasn’t that ironic as fuck. 

 

Rachel shed her coat, then pulled off her flimsy tee shirt to wrap Quinn’s still bleeding hand. 

 

Coleman knew. Coleman knew. Coleman knew. The words rattled through her head, pounding in her ears. It was bad enough that he’d used Rachel, but now he was coming for their twisted kingdom. 

 

“Quinn I’m taking you out of here, okay?” Rachel guided her out, shielding her from John, from the crew who watched with fearful and judging wild eyes. Rachel’s other hand, the one that wasn’t holding Quinn’s, was trying to keep her leather jacket closed, concealing that she was only clad in a bra now. 

 

She was fractured, splintering into a million pieces just like the shattered monitors they’d left in the control room, and Rachel was seeping into all of the cracks and broken parts of her. 

 

Quinn let herself be lead, let herself be put in a car and driven home. Her mind thrummed with the need to fix. She wanted to grab Coleman by his skinny neck and shake him but her body didn’t comply. 

 

How many times had she done this for Rachel? How many times had she pulled her up and cleaned her off and made sure she got a good night's sleep for once? Now Rachel was doing just that, unlocking her apartment door and searching for a first aid kit. 

 

Quinn sat down on the end of her bed, completely still. She knew that she was going into shock but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. 

 

Rachel, meanwhile was gently cleaning Quinn’s hand, drawing a sharp intake of breath as she wiped the cuts with rubbing alcohol. 

 

She grinned the duvet with her good hand, forcing herself to keep from reaching out. Rachel was so close she could easily brush away that stray piece of hair, or slip her fingers under to chin, forcing her to look up at her. 

 

It wasn’t until after her hand had been bandaged, she’d showered and insisted Rachel join her in bed that she noticed it. 

 

On her left hand, around her middle finger was a ring that matched Quinn’s. 

 

* * *

With Chet and Jeremy gone for the night, Rachel crawled over two loungers to lay on the one beside Quinn’s. 

 

“What did you tell him, anyway?” Quinn asked. 

 

“Tell who?” Rachel turned her head, her silhouette barely visible in the darkness. 

 

“Coleman. About you, that had you so sure you’d scared him away,” 

 

“Quinn…” Rachel hesitated. 

 

“Like it or not, you’re stuck with me Goldberg. Especially now with that little stunt Jeremy pulled,” snapped Quinn, “And I’m hard to scare.” 

 

“I…” it took Rachel a moment to catch her breath, Quinn could see her streak herself, try to keep up her strong facade.

 

The truth was more that Quinn imagined. Her hands balled into fists in her dress and it was a struggle to regulate her breathing. She saw red, she wanted to kill. Instead, she gripped the ring around her neck. 

 

Rachel’s words became wet as she held back tears and Quinn could see her shake in the low light, whether it was from crying or cold she didn’t know. 

 

“We can sue her if you want,” Quinn’s voice was measured, but they both knew the bite behind it. 

 

“No! No, that wouldn’t, it’s fine.”

 

“It’s not fine, Rach.” 

 

“I know.”

 

“That bitch,” Quinn breathed. 

 

“I know.”

 

* * *

They saw each other more. The time between seasons was for vacations and plotting and planning and if Quinn was going to continue building her empire, she needed a lot of scheming. 

 

The lack of time off served also as an excuse to keep Rachel nearby. She had nowhere else to go, no apartment, no home, and they both knew the closest thing to a bed she’d had in months was the cot in the back of the truck on set. 

 

Rachel was mostly living with her, meaning she ended up falling asleep on Quinn’s couch more nights than not. It meant her things were in the spare bathroom, that there was an extra dirty coffee cup in the sink, another pair of shoes by the door. 

 

“You can sleep in the guest room, you know,” Quinn said, standing over Rachel one morning, “it’s been set up for you since the season ended.” 

 

Rachel looked up her with sleep crusted eyes, “I’m fine here,” she said and Quinn let it drop for the night. 

 

* * *

“Goldberg,” Quinn snapped, arms crossed as she stood in the doorway of her room, “Bed. Now.”

 

“Wha- ?” Rachel looked up from her notes, bloodshot eyes meeting Quinn’s with confusion. 

 

“It’s almost two am, you need to sleep and it’s best done in a bed,” Quinn said, then stared at Rachel until she got up and followed her into her room. 

 

“Don’t get any funny ideas,” Quinn said as she turned off the light, joining Rachel in bed, “I need my dragon well rested, that’s it.” 

 

Quinn was, if nothing else, an excellent liar. But as she fell asleep, she felt Rachel’s hand slip into hers and she didn’t let go. 

 

* * *

With all the crazies that were on Everlasting, it was surprising that Quinn had never been in a mental hospital before. It was quite similar to a normal hospital, the smell of bleach and anxiety permeating from the walls as her heels making an echoing clicking sound as she walked. 

 

_ Have you ever asked yourself why you care so much for this girl? _ Dr. Waggerstein’s words rolled through her mind as walked with purpose. 

 

“I’m here for Rachel Goldberg,” Quinn snapped at the nurse at the desk, who looked up at her fearfully. 

 

“Are you family?” The nurse asked. 

 

“No but-“

 

“Quinn,” Olive Goldberg joined them, smirking like the cat that caught the canary, “you won’t be able to sink your claws into Rachel again. She’s staying here, where she’s safe and can get the medical care she needs.”

 

“You mean doping her up so badly she can’t remember what day it is, let alone tell your dirty little secret?” Quinn glared up at the taller woman with such intense anger that Olive Goldberg had to look away for a moment. 

 

“I don’t know what lies she’s been telling you, but I can assure you that’s all they are, lies,” Dr. Goldberg crossed her arms, “But it doesn’t matter, she isn’t coming with you. Only  _ family _ can approve her release.” 

 

“What room is she in?” Quinn barked at the nurse while reaching into her purse. 

 

“You’re not her mother,” the taller woman scoffed, “I am.”

 

“What room!”

 

“Only family-“ the nurse began. 

 

“I am her wife!” 

 

Her voice echoed in the sterile hallway and the world seemed to slow down for a moment. Quinn could hear her own heart pounding in her ears as she trust the marriage certificate in the nurse’s face. It was the first time she’d said it out loud, the first time she’d let herself put it into words. 

 

“Room 203,” the nurse said after what felt like forever. 

 

Dr. Goldberg snatched the paper from the nurse, but Quinn was already halfway down the hall.

 

“Keep it!” She called over her should, “it’s a copy.”

 

Inside room 203, Quinn found Rachel laying still on the center of the bed, eyes closed. Gently, Quinn sat on the bed next to her, taking Rachel’s hand. 

 

“Rachel, c’mon, it’s time to wake up,” she said softly. With her other hand, Quinn cupped her cheek, running her thumb close to the edge of Rachel’s mouth. 

 

She stirred, eyes fluttering with each of Quinn’s touches. Then, slowly, as if it was difficult to do so, she opened her eyes. 

 

“Quinn?” Rachel reached up, catching Quinn’s wrist.

 

“I’m here to get you out of here, okay?” She said, helping Rachel sit up. 

 

“I can’t,” Rachel whispered, “I don’t want to hurt anyone again.”

 

“Who are you going to hurt?” 

 

“Everyone! Everlasting! You…” Rachel trailed off, not meeting her gaze. 

 

“It’s just like we talked about, Rachel,” Dr. Goldberg said, and Quinn could feel her glaring at them. 

 

Quinn moved closer, brushing away a piece of hair, “Do you remember what I told you when you said no one could love you?” 

 

Rachel nodded, motions slowed with whatever drugs that been pumping through her system. 

 

“Tell me,” Quinn ordered, taking Rachel’s chin and forcing her to look at her, “What did I tell you?”

 

“That I-I’m perfect,” whispered Rachel. 

 

Behind them, Dr. Goldberg snorted. 

 

“And I still think so,” Quinn held her gaze for a few seconds longer before saying, “Ready to come home?” 

 

Rachel nodded and let Quinn pull her up. 

 

“You can’t seriously believe her,” groaned Dr. Goldberg. 

 

“If I hear one more word out of you,” Quinn snarled, “I will press charges for kidnapping and sue your incompet ass for every fucking penny. Now get out.”

 

Olive Goldberg’s jaw dropped. She closed her mouth, then opened it again. Disgusted, she turned on her heel and stormed out. 

 

Gently than Rachel had ever seen her before, Quinn helped her change out of the hospital clothes. Quinn wished she could linger over the intimate act but getting Rachel out safely was her main priority. 

 

Rachel, in turn, grabbed Quinn’s shoulders for balance, head dipping close to to the curve of Quinn’s neck. Quinn could feel her breath, raising goosebumps on her skin. She looped her arm through Rachel’s leading her out of the tiny, dark room, out of the hospital and into the sunshine. 

 

* * *

“Goldberg! My office, now!” Quinn snapped over the walkies. It had been a week since the hospital incident, and the season had just wrapped with the wifey running off with another contestant, leaving the suitor at the altar. The irony of a surprise lesbian wedding wasn’t lost on Quinn at all, but it had all been Rachel and Jay’s doing, pulling off some progressiveness in the eleventh hour. 

 

Rachel let herself in, unable to keep the smallest of smiles off of her face. Quinn was waiting for her on the couch. 

 

“Sit,” ordered Quinn, handing her a glass of whisky.  

 

“Listen, Quinn, before you say anything about the show-“ Rachel began. 

 

“This isn’t about the show.”

 

“It’s not? Then why’d you-“

 

“It’s about the hospital.”

 

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Rachel said, “I wanted to thank you for everything last week. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up.”

 

“You might not be so thankful once you hear how I got you out,” replied Quinn. She took a long drink from her own glass of whisky, “the hospital only lets family or spouses discarde patients.”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“Yeah well this might help,” Quinn handed Rachel the marriage certificate, their marriage certificate. 

 

Rachel’s brow furrowed in confusion. She turned the paper over in her hands then looked at Quinn. 

 

“You faked a marriage certificate? To get me out?”

 

“No Rachel, I didn’t fake a marriage certificate, we’re married. We have been since that night in Vegas when we signed Darius.”

 

“We’ve been married for two years?!” Cried Rachel, “And when exactly were you planning on telling me?” 

 

“We can have it annulled if you’d like,” Quinn said cooly.

 

Rachel faltered, the glass almost slipping from her fingers, “Is that… what you want?” 

 

“It would be easy enough since it’s not like we fucked...“ Quinn’s hand tightened around her own glass. Her shoulders were tight, her whole body tense with Rachel’s reaction. 

 

“You could have had it annulled immediately,” Rachel said evenly. She had become scarily calm. 

 

“We had a show to produce,” said Quinn simply. 

 

“And is that,” Rachel pointed at the ring around Quinn’s neck, “the wedding ring?” 

 

Quinn nodded stiffly. 

 

“In the car, on the way back from the hospital, you were wearing it and I thought Chet…”

 

“Is that why you started crying in the car?” Quinn turned sharply to look at her. Rachel had an elbow on her knee, head resting in one hand as the other still held the now empty whisky glass. 

 

“You thought I was with Chet again?” 

 

“Yeah,” Rachel replied thickly. She straightened, barely meeting Quinn’s gaze, tears edged her eyes and Quinn felt her own heart clench. 

 

“Why the fuck would I be with Chet when I’m married to you, Goldberg?”

 

Like a shot, Rachel had closed the gap between their mouths, Quinn’s glass falling to the carpet. Quinn moaned against Rachel’s mouth, pulling her into her lap almost immediately. Rachel’s hands threaded through Quinn’s hair, nails scraping her scalp. Quinn’s hands circled Rachel’s waist, anchoring her. 

 

They kissed until they couldn’t breathe, teeth and tongues, hot and fast and rough. When the broke apart, Rachel buried her face in the crook of Quinn’s neck. She nuzzled the curve where throat met shoulder, first kissing then letting her teeth leave red crescents on Quinn’s pale skin. 

 

Rachel began to tug at the edge of Quinn’s skirt, pulling to up a fraction of an inch at a time. Branching herself on the couch, Quinn lifted her hips- and Rachel- up for a moment so Rachel could push her skirt up higher. 

 

Quinn’s fingers grazed the top of Rachel’s jeans, “is this okay?” She asked in a low tone and Rachel nodded vigorously. 

 

Quinn fumbled with Rachel’s jeans, unhooking the button and pulling them as loose as she could with Rachel straddling her lap. 

 

It was a risky move, fucking in Quinn’s office with all the glass doors completely unlocked and only barely concealed with thin, white fabric. But neither of them wanted to stop, they’d already taken so many risks in their lives, in their jobs, what was one more? 

 

Quinn slid a hand past the waistband of her underwear to find that Rachel was already slick with hot desire. Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn’s neck as Quinn slowly circled her entrance, gathering moisture before she began circling Rachel’s clit. 

 

Rachel’s breaths became labored, gasping Quinn’s name as she rocked her hips against Quinn’s hand. 

 

“Quinn, Q-Quinn please,” Rachel begged, her forehead touching Quinn’s. 

 

“What do you need?” A phrase she’d used so many times in the past, neither had realized how intimate it really was. 

 

“You, inside me,” Rachel’s words sent a shiver down Quinn’s spine. 

 

Crooking two fingers, Quinn slowly pressed then into her, feeling Rachel’s walls flutter around her almost immediately. She added a third and Rachel’s breathing grew erratic.

 

With her free hand, Quinn brushed the hair from Rachel’s face, quietly urging her on, bringing her closer to the edge of orgasm. 

 

“I’ve got you,” Quinn whispered, watching Rachel close her eyes. 

 

Her words seemed to send her over the edge. Rachel moaned as an orgasm flooded her, leaving her trembling in Quinn’s arms. 

 

Rachel nuzzled Quinn’s neck but Quinn could feel her watching as she sucked Rachel’s juices off of her fingers. Quinn threaded a protective hand through Rachel’s hair. 

 

Quinn let her head loll back onto the back of the couch. She could feel each breath Rachel took as she came off of her orgsmaitic high. Then, she felt one of Rachel’s warm hands move between her legs. With sure movements, Rachel pushed aside Quinn’s underwear, pressing a single finger inside of her, then two, then three. She was already embarrassingly wet. 

 

Rachel quickly found a steady rhythm as Quinn writhed underneath her. Quinn’s head was tipped back, moans filling her office, as Rachel’s thumb found her clit, pressing down and sending her over the edge. 

 

When the stars behind her eyes subsided, she looked up to find Rachel grinning at her. She was clearly oh so pleased with herself and Quinn’s now disheveled appearance. 

 

“You’re a good fuck, Goldie,” Quinn said, trying to brush away the emotion she felt with a quip. She caught Rachel’s chin, pulling her in for a slow kiss, “And a pretty good wifey.” 


End file.
